The days after the storm passed quietly over Eden.
The island had begun to breathe again—markets bustling, children laughing, fields rippling under golden skies. Stone walls once shattered by war had been rebuilt stronger. New songs stirred faintly on the lips of the people, cautious but alive.
Today was a day of remembrance.
The great memorial was held near the central shrine, where the Founders' statues overlooked the gathering of Edenites. White banners floated in the breeze. Names of the fallen, etched in crystal and stone, lined the open square.
In the palace library, Zinco sat alone.
Sunlight poured through high windows, dust swirling over rows of ancient books. He was seated by a corner desk, a thick tome open before him, though his eyes barely moved across the words. His thoughts drifted too often lately—toward questions no books could answer.
A soft knock pulled him from his trance.
"My lord Zinco?" a servant called gently.
He closed the book and rose, his dark hair catching the sunlight, his golden cloak brushing the marble floor.
"Your mother is asking for you," the servant said.
He followed the call through winding halls to the memorial ground, where Mariah stood among the mourners. Her presence was like the sea—quiet, powerful, sorrowful.
Together, they lit a special lantern, placing it by a smaller stone at the memorial's base. It was for Serah—the maid who had died shielding Zinco when he was only seven.
Mariah pressed her hand to the stone. Her voice, barely a whisper, trembled with memory.
"You deserved so much more," she said. "Thank you for protecting him when I could not."
Zinco stood beside her, silent, heart heavy.
A moment later, Mariah squeezed his hand briefly, kissed his forehead, and stepped away.
"I'll see you at home, my son," she whispered.
He nodded.
She walked away into the gathering crowd, leaving Zinco standing before the stone.
The courtyard slowly emptied. Zinco remained.
His mind wandered—back to the night Serah fell, to the screams, the blood, the terror he hadn't been able to stop. Guilt rose like a tide inside him, cold and aching.
He didn't notice the soft footsteps approaching until a voice, light and familiar, broke through his thoughts.
"You're brooding again," said Tamar.
He blinked, startled, and turned.
Tamar, daughter of the tribe of Noah, smiled up at him. She was close to his age, her brown curls pulled back into a loose braid, a servant's simple robes draped over her slender frame. But her eyes—sharp, warm, stubborn—gave her a presence larger than her small stature.
"You always find me when I'm thinking too hard," Zinco muttered, trying to compose himself.
"Someone has to," she said, grinning. "Come on. You look like you're about to turn into stone."
She tugged at his sleeve. He hesitated. Then, reluctantly, he allowed her to pull him away from the memorial.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"Outside," she said simply. "The world doesn't stop, even when we want it to."
They slipped through the palace gates, past the guards who barely gave them a glance, and into the outer villages.
The village of Cain was alive with color. Merchants shouted over stalls piled with fruits and silks. Smiths hammered away at new tools and weapons. Children darted between the crowds, chasing each other with wooden swords.
Zinco couldn't help but relax a little, the noise and life shaking loose the weight from his chest.
As they walked past a spice seller's cart, a voice rang out.
"Oi! Zinco! Tamar!"
They turned.
A boy, broad-shouldered and with a mischievous grin, jogged toward them. His shirt was untucked, and he carried a loaf of stolen bread tucked under one arm.
Aaron.
He skidded to a stop before them, panting dramatically.
"Look at you two," he said, winking. "Running off together without me. Scandalous."
Tamar immediately smacked him on the shoulder. "Idiot!" she snapped, though her cheeks flushed slightly.
Zinco laughed—a real laugh this time, the first in days.
Aaron grinned wider, rubbing his shoulder. "I'm wounded. Deeply. Truly."
"Good," Tamar said with mock seriousness. "Maybe you'll stop stealing bread now."
Aaron held up the loaf proudly. "This is a noble cause. You wouldn't want me to starve, would you?"
"You just ate five minutes ago!" Zinco said, shaking his head.
The three of them fell into easy conversation, moving together through the winding streets, teasing and laughing. The pain of the morning faded, if only a little.
---
The Promise of Restoration
While Zinco, Tamar, and Aaron lost themselves in the bustling streets, far from the laughter and warmth of the village, a different gathering was taking place in the heart of Eden.
Inside the high council chamber of the palace, the air was tense.
The Guardian King sat at the head of the long stone table, flanked by the Moonlight Huntress. Her silver armor glinted faintly beneath her dark cloak, and her fierce eyes missed nothing.
Around the table, seated in carved oak chairs, were the Lords of the Seven Tribes—Shem, Cush, Cain, Noah, Nimrod, Seba, and Salem. Each bore the colors and emblems of their tribe. Each carried the burdens of their people in their expressions.
Scrolls and maps littered the table's surface. Areas shaded in black marked the blighted lands—territories left ravaged and poisoned by Amariah's rebellion and the wars that followed.
The Lord of Cush, a broad man with a thunderous voice, slammed his fist on the table. "The earth still weeps where she passed! Our fields will not yield! Our rivers run dry!"
"And disease spreads among the cattle," added the Lord of Shem gravely. "If we do not act, there will be famine before the year's turn."
Murmurs of worry rose.
The Huntress leaned forward, her voice cold and precise. "We have already sent patrols to cleanse the blighted areas. But the corruption is deep. Not all of it can be burned away."
The Guardian King rested his chin on his steepled fingers, listening without speaking. His golden eyes were steady but shadowed.
Just as the Lords began to argue among themselves, the great doors opened with a deep, echoing groan.
All turned at once.
Rex entered.
He walked with the slow, unhurried confidence of a man who had known centuries of war and victory. His black cloak swept behind him like a second shadow, and the mark of the Founders gleamed faintly on his chest.
At his presence, every Lord rose immediately to their feet. Even the Huntress stood, placing her fist over her heart in a silent salute.
Rex inclined his head briefly.
"Sit," he said. His voice was calm, but it left no room for disobedience.
They obeyed.
Rex moved to the vacant chair beside the Guardian King and sat, folding his hands before him.
The Guardian King spoke first, his voice heavy. "Father... the island bleeds. Amariah's war has left more scars than we feared. The tribes cry out for aid. The land itself seems cursed in places. What shall we do?"
One by one, the Lords gave their reports—each more troubling than the last. Farms abandoned. Wells poisoned. Strange beasts prowling the ruined fields. Refugees flooding the stable regions. The council chamber grew darker with every word.
Through it all, Rex listened. Silent. Measuring.
When they finally fell quiet, the old warrior rose from his seat.
He walked slowly to the wide window overlooking the island. From here, the view stretched far: over the golden fields of Eden, the glimmering rivers, and the distant blackened wounds upon the land where Amariah's wrath had fallen.
Rex stood still for a long moment, hands clasped behind his back.
Then, he spoke.
"The land is broken," he said quietly. "But not beyond repair."
He turned to face them, his eyes sharp and burning with an ageless fire.
"I made a promise when I stood against Babel. When I crossed the broken seas and led our people here. I promised Eden would endure."
He paused, sweeping his gaze over each Lord.
"And it will."
A breath seemed to move through the room.
"I will lead the restoration," Rex said. "We will cleanse the poisoned lands. We will heal the rivers. We will drive out the beasts and rebuild stronger than before."
He stepped closer to the table, his voice rising like a call to arms.
"Not by waiting. Not by fearing. But by acting. Together we will guide the people. We will protect them and clear the path before us all."
He smiled faintly, a grim, determined smile.
"Trust me," Rex said. "And we will make our family Eden whole again."
The Lords bowed their heads, awe and hope mingling in their hearts.
Outside, the setting sun broke through the clouds, casting golden light over the wounded island.
And in that fading light, a new beginning stirred.
---